Robbie Lewis, Fun Guy
by Muffinzelda
Summary: Lewis, Hobson, Hathaway, and the pursuit of happiness. Set shortly after Intelligent Design, two of our heroes revel in a blossoming romance while the third explores a solitary path. As I explore their different ideas of fun, I may have exaggerated James and Laura's cheek and sass. But our Robbie is still a lovable stick in the mud.
1. James assesses the situation

Disclaimer: This story is for fan purposes only. All the characters are property of their respective owners (not me!) and are used here without permission. Enjoy!

* * *

 _Lewis: Hathaway wouldn't know fun if it smacked him in the gob._

 _Hobson: oh, and you would?_

 _Lewis: Sure, I've had me share._

 _Hobson: Yeah, in the distant past_

 _-The Ramblin' Boy_

* * *

 _Part I, Chapter 1- James assesses the situation  
_

 _The times, they are a changin'_ , Hathaway hummed to himself as he dried his hands on marine dream green towels in the loo at Robbie Lewis' flat. The loo had a pedestal sink- which meant no counter top or drawers for hidden storage. James sighed as he accidentally kicked a wicker basket tucked under the sink. With its pretty floral fabric interior, it was a cornucopia of makeup, skin care products and hair supplies. _How does someone with such short hair need so many products_? James wondered as he pictured Laura Hobson, Oxford's forensic pathologist, standing in front of this very sink.

Lewis and Hobson were moving on with their lives together, but Sergeant James Hathaway was biding his time. He'd taken policing to heart is if it were his vocation, but now he'd grown so jaded against the profession and his own abilities that he knew he had to leave. A person of interest in their last case- Adam Tibbit- had commit suicide after a rough interview with Hathaway. Yet Chief Superintendent Innocent had convinced him to take a sabbatical instead of resigning outright. So here he was, a merely one week after Adam Tibbit's suicide, ready to start a new case with his governor Robbie Lewis- though Hathaway had made it clear to Innocent that he would stay just long enough to give Innocent the time to process the paperwork for his request of the sabbatical. He'd driven to Lewis' flat and was using the loo as the Inspector was finishing his preparations for departure.

As Hathaway emerged from the loo he met Lewis in the hall coming out of his bedroom. A quick glance revealed a new duvet and full complement of throw pillows with a powder blue and purple paisley motif. "Have you redecorated the bedroom as well, sir?" He asked cheekily.

"It's just a duvet cover, man. You can change them easily."

Hathaway stared, prompting Lewis to ramble.

"Laura, erm, bought some new sheets too because she likes a higher thread count."

"Absolutely. Thread count makes a huge difference in quality." Hathaway said smugly. "And the throw pillows?"

Lewis dodged the question. "Right, you cheeky git. Where are we off to this morning?"

"Montrose Court- feuding neighbours."

"Hmm, that's near Valdemar Close where Laura used to live."

"Ah yes, before she moved into your flat."

"No, before that bloody Halloween when we almost lost her. She moved after that. And she most certainly hasn't moved into my flat."

"Hasn't she? Is that your pink yoga mat in the corner? And this must be yours as well," Hathaway said, picking up a women's magazine off the coffee table. Lewis just glared.

"I know, you think we're moving too fast, but when you get to my age…"

"Too fast?" Hathaway's eyes bugged out of his head and he laughed at Lewis' assumption. "Hardly. You and Dr. Hobson should have done this years ago. I just find it odd that she's moved into your tiny flat rather than you moving into her more… capacious… house."

"Early days, James."

To Lewis, their cohabitation was reminiscent of his days as a young copper still in uniform, when he was so proud of his first flat without flatmates- a flat where he could bring Val and they could be alone. He liked the idea of providing a home and it hadn't yet occurred to him that Hobson was, well, slumming it.

Hathaway noticed a shift in Lewis' expression and sought to clarify. "But it's clear that you make her very happy."

"Ta, James. That reminds me, I'd like to stop at the chemist on the way to Montrose Court. Have to pick up a prescription."

Hathaway found it odd that Lewis' tone perked up at the thought of the chemist. "Sir, you hate taking medication. Surely you're not ill.."

"It's Robbie, how many times do I have to remind you, lad? And it's nothing really, just something that Laura suggested. Better living through chemistry, as she always says."

"Quite," Hathaway said. But he remained sceptical of a cheerful Lewis.


	2. Facebrook: Everybody's Babbling

Part I, Chapter 2- Facebrook: Everybody's babbling

Lewis and Hathaway were on the case, but the animosity between the neighbours of Montrose Court was little more than a squabble over on-street parking that had spilled onto the ubiquitous social network: Facebrook.

"Ah, Facebrook, where the world is a babbling brook." Lewis wanted to demonstrate that he knew the social network's slogan, since it would be common knowledge that he did not have an account.

The neighbours were all exceedingly polite to each other in face-to-face life but behind closed doors they slandered each other mercilessly on Facebrook. Family A- an older couple- did not like people parking in front of their home, so they kept their cars parked in the street instead of using their driveway. The conflict had been brewing for some time, but the flashpoint came when a lorry arrived with new furniture from IKEA for family B. The lorry driver had a difficult time manoeuvering around all the cars parked in the court. While he did not actually hit anyone or anything, he did curse out the families in the court who couldn't be bothered to park in their own driveways. Family A riposted this breech of decency with a post on Facebrook. "That furniture makes our neighbourhood look cheap," family A stated on Facebrook. Lewis looked around the room and spied a chess set arranged on glass table. He seriously wondered if they actually play chess or if they just had set that up to look pretentious. At any rate, the online discourse had grown more venomous from there.

Hathaway had to explain to the older couple that even if you "hide" your status from someone you are insulting, everyone else can see it. The other neighbours (enter Family C) would tell family B what family A had posted about them online. Lewis, for his part, tried to be helpful in suggesting that family A just park in their own driveway. When that recommendation was met with disdain, the two detectives promptly left.

Lewis unleashed once he and Hathaway were back in the car. "It can be bloody impossible to find on street parking in Oxford proper, but this is a bloody cul-de-sac. With four houses! And they all have a driveway!"

"The struggle is real, sir."

"For blokes like you and me, maybe. But it's not even a case of the haves and the have nots; it's a case of the haves and the have mores! These families are lucky enough to have two cars, and yet husbands and wives can't even be bothered to rearrange the cars for each other in the driveway.* And don't even get me started on Facebrook."

"Speaking of which, let's see what we've got here." James pulled out his personal mobile and looked up the neighbours' dispute on Facebrook. He found the public comment thread and showed Lewis. Just then, the Facebrook Babbler app popped up with a new "direct babble" from Lyn Lewis.

"What the hell? That's our Lyn!"

Hathaway shrugged. "Yeah, she friended me a few years ago- mostly to keep tabs on you, I think. I'm not online very often though; my mind is on a higher plane."

Lewis read Lyn's direct babble aloud. "Latest developments on dad and Laura pls. He just acts all daft when I ask him anything over the phone."

"Don't answer that, James. We taught our lass not to gossip!" Lewis commanded.

"She's happy for you, sir. She just doesn't like being kept in the dark."

"I know she is. Too happy, in fact. I just need to know that Laura is sure before I get the family involved. I don't want Lyn to get her hopes up."

"Do you have any reason to believe that Laura is unsure? She seems pretty resolute to me."

"I wonder if- in the long run- I won't be exciting enough for her. Do you remember the first time we went to her house? For her birthday all those years ago? She asked if I would join in a back room poker game and all I could answer was that I used to play cribbage with me gran." He didn't tell James about his and Laura's recent exchange regarding fun smacking James in the gob. He really didn't want James to know tha2t Laura thought his own 'fun' was in the distant past either.

"Well, you could always set up a Facebrook profile to prove to her how young and forward thinking you are."

"No way in hell, James."

* * *

Lewis was still fuming by the time he returned to the station. He marched into Jean Innocent's office to give her a piece of his mind. "Really, ma'am, is this how you mean to employ my time and talents until I can retire? I'm a detective," he grumbled. "But this case is nothing more than a parking issue- it hardly falls in the purview of CID!"

"Calm down, Inspector. I'm trying to go easy on Hathaway until his sabbatical. And threats were made, were they not?"

"Vaguely, if you consider the source. Think Hyacinth Bucket with a smartphone."

"It's Bouquet, Lewis." Innocent chided mockingly, recalling the catchphrase of the 90's BBC character. "Besides, it's not a horrible idea for you to dip your toes into social media and update your skill set."

"My 'skill set' will be retired soon enough."

"Ah, but it could be useful to you to keep up with your former colleagues once you've gone. 'Everybody's babbling on Facebrook!'" Jean Innocent said, recalling another advert for the social network.

"Don't I know it, ma'am." Lewis stood up and nodded to leave her office.

* * *

Still in a bit of a mood, Lewis decided to pop out for coffee via the mortuary. He left Hathaway to deal with the paperwork on their morning's mission.

Hathaway, feeling a little spiteful about the bagman's lot, pulled out his personal mobile and answered Lyn Lewis' direct babble with two words. 'Snoggy-woggy Robbie-wobby.'

When he received Lyn's response, effusive with heart emojis of all designs and colours, he felt that once again, he had gone too far. He needed a cigarette and headed outside.


	3. On the Nature of Fun

Part I, Chapter 3- On the Nature of Fun

* * *

When Lewis returned to the office, both he and Hathaway were feeling more conciliatory towards one another and the world. Hathaway decided to accept Lewis' offer of drinks down at the pub with himself and Dr. Hobson after work.

The two men had time for a pint alone before the pathologist arrived. Lewis tried to get Hathaway to open up about he would do on his sabbatical. "Another orphanage in Croatia?" Hathaway just rolled his eyes in response. "World Music Tour?" This time Hathaway smiled, but he still declined to elaborate on his plans. Eventually Lewis gave up and turned the conversation to cricket. Hathaway didn't give a toss about the cricket, but he was grateful that Lewis had changed the subject.

Dr. Hobson arrived and made sure to greet Hathaway before posing a gentle kiss on Lewis' lips. She had learned from a previous experience not to make a spectacle...

Hobson also tried to ascertain what Hathaway had planned for his sabbatical with no luck. "Really, James. We won't judge you for spending six months partying in Magaluf," she suggested.

"That's your idea of fun, not mine," Hathaway retorted with a chuckle.

"Perhaps when I was younger," she admitted. Hathaway searched her eyes, looking for her trademark sass, but instead he found something more: maturity, compassion, and even concern.

Hathaway took a deep breath. "The truth is… I just don't know… I have to get away for a while." Hobson reached across the table to take Hathaway's hand in support, but he withdrew it. "I think I'm going to have a smoke. And I left something in the car."

"I'll put the next round in while you're gone, lad," said Lewis, trying to make sure that Hathaway would come back.

When Hathaway stepped back inside the pub with a little white bag, he assessed the situation. A substantial plate of chips had materialized on the table along with a pint, a gin and tonic, and an orange juice. _Predictable Robbie_ , he thought. Hathaway, still in the front of the pub, then saw Lewis pick up a chip to feed Hobson who tilted her head to nibble at it. _Unpredictable Robbie_ , Hathaway concluded, and the Bob Dylan melody struck him once more. _The times they are a changin'._

Hathaway approached with caution; he didn't want to interrupt their moment, but there was a drink for him so surely they were expecting him back. _Right?_ Lewis held up another chip to Hobson's lips, and this time she gobbled at it, trying to take his fingers into her mouth as well. They broke apart as Hathaway reached the table, though Hobson looked a little embarrassed.

"You look like the cat who swallowed the canary, Doctor Hobson."

"Our Laura is all skin and bones, she was just wasting away before she had me to feed her, really…" Lewis tried to explain, but Hobson thumped him across the chest. She had willingly participated in Lewis' coquetry, but she wasn't having any of his paternalistic explanation.

Hobson came back to the main point. "Sit down, James; we'll miss you terribly if you leave Oxford. Are you sure you won't stay on?"

The first pint must have gone to his head because he was suddenly feeling uninhibited. "And fear that I'm walking into an advert for Viagra every time I walk into a room? No thanks," Hathaway retorted.

Lewis turned white.

"Nonsense!" Hobson reacted, "I assure you that Inspector Lewis does not need any chemical enhancement to satisfy…"

"Enough!" Lewis exclaimed, scratching his ear.

"Enough, indeed. You left your 'happy pills' that we picked up at the chemist in my car." Hathaway tossed the small white bag at Lewis, pills rattling.

Hobson adopted a tone of medical authority. "Pills to treat toe nail fungus, James. Toe nail fungus run rampant for the better part of a decade. I won't let him near my bedroom until he's sought treatment…" Hobson paused for dramatic effect before quickly blurting out, "…Even if he is a skilled and generous lover."

Lewis choked, but Hathaway remained deadpan.

"Ah, unconditional love." Hathaway quipped.

"There's no such thing." Hobson riposted.

"I look forward to changing your mind," Lewis squeezed Hobson's hand defiantly and took a swig of beer.

Hathaway was determined to have the last word this time. "You got it wrong, Robbie. You were worried she might not think you're a fun guy, but it's more your fungi that is of concern. Best of luck sorting that out in your little flat." He raised his glass, downed the remaining brew, and left.

"James…" Hobson called after him.

"Let him go, Laura." Lewis shook his head.

Lewis and Hobson were silent for some time, trying to figure out what had just happened and where they went wrong with their friend. Did their love chase him away?

Eventually, Hobson spoke. "Sorry I embarrassed you, Robbie."

"Nah, lass. I don't like to brag about my virility in front of the lad, but it's good for him to learn to respect his elders, heh. And, you know… Laura…"

"What, Robbie?"

"Well, you're quite good at the bed stuff."

"We're good together, Robbie." She kissed him as passionately as a public house would allow. "Robbie, were you really worried that I don't think you're 'fun?'"

He nodded shyly. "You've travelled a bit more than me, you're cultured… you're Oxford, Laura. I don't mean it in a bad way. I've just never quite fit the mould here."

"And yet you don't take any guff from the gowns. Oxford is your home too, Robbie, albeit an adopted one."

"Aye. Tell you what, I want you to pick any activity that you'd like us to do next weekend. I want to know what you find fun. Cycling, rowing, a concert, you name it and we'll do it."

"Anything?" She asked with a mischievous grin.

"Within reason, lass. I'll draw the line at skydiving."

"I'd just like to take a walk in the woods, Robbie."

"Is that all?"

"And… I'd like to forage for mushrooms."

"Do I have to eat the mushrooms?"

"No, I want to take them to the mortuary for tests."

Lewis laughed nervously, not sure if she was joking or not.

"Usually there's a chill in the mortuary, not hot butter…" he said, trying to suss her out.

"No, Robbie, I'm serious- I like to run tests on mushrooms as experiments in my lab. It's a hobby, I guess you could say. Sometimes I get lucky and find something toxic."

"Lucky indeed." Lewis said, unsure if he should be relieved or not. "What do you do with the toxic ones?"

"I destroy them, of course." Laura looked into Lewis' eyes. "I suppose you think that I am desperately boring, Robbie."

"No, love. I was worried you'd think the same about me. It's a bit ironic, isn't it?"

"How so, Robbie?

"It seems that you like fungi after all."

Hobson groaned and shook her head.

* * *

Author Note: This is the chapter where I got a little carried away. James and Laura would never say some of the things they spout off in this chapter. Also, I don't think that drug companies are allowed to advertise on the telly in the UK (?) whereas in the US, commercials/adverts for erectile dysfunction drugs like Viagra are everywhere- especially during the evening news when one may be eating dinner with the family. (Ugh, so many American family dinners made awkward by TV...) So, James' cheeky remark about Viagra probably would never have crossed his mind. Oh well, it's fanfic, not Masterpiece. Finally, my apologies for bad puns.

Will James figure out his sabbatical? Will Robbie convince Laura of his unconditional love? I know that this story is light on plot, but trust me, we are building to a resolution here. =)


	4. In the Crib

Chapter 4- In the Crib

* * *

After a full day of foraging for mushrooms in Wytham Woods, Dr. Hobson had her specimens meticulously bagged, tagged and stored in the fridge at Lewis' flat. Meanwhile, Lewis prepared their tea.

While their dinner was roasting in the oven, the two settled in for a relaxing evening of cribbage. Lewis proudly pulled out the wooden cribbage board that had once belonged to his gran. Hobson let Lewis refresh her on the house rules of play and the game continued apace. Lewis was feeling much more confident in his relationship with Hobson now, knowing that she was content with in life's simple pleasures as he was. Walks in the woods, beer, and cards with his bonny lass: he was even looking forward to his retirement.

Hobson turned up the right jack from the crib and said, "his nobs" with a sly look before counting her points. "fifteen one, fifteen two… and that's it I'm afraid."

Lewis was pegging Hobson's points when the intercom on his door buzzed.

"Robbie, you didn't order a pizza, did you? Just in case you burn our dinner?"

"What? Never."

Lewis answered the intercom and heard two words in return, "It's James."

Lewis and Hobson exchanged a momentary look of panic before laughing. Hobson dived for the small pile of clothing that had amassed on the floor- most of it hers- for they had been playing a fun variant: strip cribbage!

"I'll be down in just a minute," Lewis answered the intercom. He looked at Hobson scrambling to put her socks back on. "You're beautiful," he said. Hobson looked up, happy to discover his amorous gaze. "To be continued, Love."

Hathaway was waiting at Lewis' door holding six bottles of Newcastle Brown. Lewis grinned. "Come on up, James."

Hathaway wasn't surprised to see Hobson sitting in Lewis' kitchen. "I'm glad you're here too," he said to Hobson. "There's something that I want to tell you both before I post it on Facebrook." Lewis glowered at the reference to social media, but he accepted the beer and put it in the fridge.

"What's cooking?" Hathaway asked, inspecting the oven.

"Nothing good," Hobson joked. "Robbie is cooking for us. You ought to stay."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your dinner and evening of card games." He noted, spying the cribbage set and cards. But he also spied something else.

"Oh please stay James. I'm already halfway to being skunked in cribbage, so you'll save me the embarrassment." Laura pleaded.

"My new pet name for you is going to be 'Muggins,'" Lewis added as Hobson glared at his use of the term for someone who miscounts their points.

"Just to check, this is the version of the game where clothes stay on, right?" Hathaway asked as he picked up Hobson's floral scarf up off the floor.

Hobson feigned her innocence well. "Don't be daft. There's no such thing as strip cribbage, James. I mean, how would that work anyway? There's not a winner and loser every hand."

Lewis took his turn in the denial. "Bad Monty! He's always running off with scarves." The cat was perched on the refrigerator and yawned in contempt.

Lewis winked at Hobson before turning around to Hathaway. "But really, you should stay for dinner. Our pot roast will pair well with your beer and you can share your news with us."

"All right." Hathaway reluctantly agreed, tongue in cheek, "if you think the beer pairs well."

The beer helped Lewis swallow the news that Hathaway had decided to make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella in Spain. He had found someone to sublet his apartment to and he would leave as soon as he had his belongings in storage.


	5. Laura's Interlude

Part II, Chapter 5- Laura's interlude

Part II takes place two months later

* * *

Robbie Lewis had retired one month ago. He kept busy with different projects for about a month before he decided to take a trip to see Lyn and her family for a few days. He wanted to have an honest face-to-face discussion with her about his relationship with Laura Hobson. It was long overdue, but suffice it to say that Robbie Lewis doesn't emote well.

It was hard for Hobson to get the exact details of her boyfriend's conversation with his daughter, but he assured Hobson that all the cards were on the table now. "Well, I've done it." He told her. "You're part of the family now, whether you like it or not. Lyn's knitting you a stocking to hang at Christmas."

As happy as Hobson was to be counted among the Lewises, she was also enjoying the freedom she found on her own for the first time since she and Lewis became a couple.

She went back to her home and realized that mail and dust had been piling up, and the garden languished. She missed spending time at her house and began setting things to rights.

The first night she rejoiced to have her bed to herself again, stretching out and thrashing around at will. The second night, she had to admit that she began to miss him. The third night, she lay awake, wishing his gentle snore would lull her to sleep. The fourth night, she even missed that mangy furball Monty jumping on her in the middle of the night!

Hobson looked forward to Lewis coming home on the fifth night… but he'd called and asked if she didn't mind him staying with Lyn through the weekend. "Jack's Sunday School is doing a recreation of a Hebrew village. He sells oil lamps. Apparently, it's quite elaborate. "

"You, in church?" She marvelled.

"Yeah, just don't tell James."

"I wouldn't know where to find him!"

"Too true. Are you sure you don't mind, Laura? You could always come up to Manchester for the weekend."

"I'd love to but I'm on call so I've got to stay close. You stay and enjoy Jack's historical reenactment, or whatever that is. I will see what kind of girls' weekend I can come up with for myself."

Hobson's girls' weekend didn't pan out, but at least the weekend didn't include corpses either. She was tempted to order take-away, but she realized that some grocery shopping was in order. With Robbie retired, she wasn't used to doing the grocery shopping anymore. He even cooked, and although she often teased him, his meals were not terrible and made leftovers to freeze. He was used to cooking for a family, he'd say to her. By this point, however, Hobson had run out of frozen leftovers.

 _What did Robbie say about me wasting away without him as he fed me chips? Maybe he was right after all,_ she mused as she waited in the checkout line at Sainsbury.

"Hello, dear." An older woman in line in front of Hobson said to her.

Hobson nodded and gave a little smile, but she then turned her face down to her trolley, certain that the woman had made a mistake. But the women continued to try to introduce Hobson to her daughter, also in line.

"This is one of my tenants," the older woman said of Dr. Hobson.

"I'm sorry; you must be mistaken. I've owned my own home for several years." Hobson answered.

"No, no, I never forget a face," the woman insisted. "You live with the nice policeman in 2C. He's such a dear. Always polite and pays his rent on time. What was your name again? He ought to add you to the lease, really."

In that moment, Laura Hobson had an epiphany.

"Oh, right," she said meekly to Lewis' landlady, for she had caught a glimpse of herself as others see her.


	6. Robbie's Interlude

Part II, Chapter 6- Robbie's interlude

Lewis drove down the motorway with alacrity. Usually, leaving Lyn's house after an awkward and stilted visit just made him all the more depressed as he trudged back to Oxford. But this time was different. He'd had a good visit with his daughter, a better one than he had had in years. So good, in fact, that he had extended his stay by a few days. Could it be that his relationship with Laura Hobson made him feel whole again, and he was somehow able to embrace being part of his family again? He was longing to see her again and was even happy to return to his modest flat; even if Hobson herself would be at work, there would be traces of her presence there.

 _Christ, man, you're too old to be getting excited about lacy knickers._ He chided himself when the thought came to mind, but he had an irrepressible grin on his face.

His mood changed abruptly when he entered his flat. The pink yoga mat and the magazines best described as "women's interest" were gone. The basket of Hobson's grooming supplies had disappeared. So too had the duvet cover and the throw pillows from the bed. Lewis heaved a sigh and plunked down on the sofa.

Monty came out to greet him and leapt into his lap. He purred as Lewis scratched the fur on his chin. "Well Monty, I guess it's just you and me tonight. Laura must be mad that I stayed away so long. She can be temperamental sometimes. I hope she's not mad at Lyn forcing Christmas on her." He proceeded to think aloud to his attentive cat. Monty, for his part, seemed unconcerned about Hobson's absence and nuzzled his newly-returned human with contentment.

Lewis rang Hobson's mobile to say that he was back, but she didn't answer so he had to leave a message. He received a text message back about a half an hour later. "Sorry, really slammed at work. Would you like to come to mine for dinner at 8?" The message read.

Lewis hated SMS- especially now when he just wanted to hear her voice- but he managed to poke 'O,' 'K,' and 'send' onto his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. As he unpacked his things from the trip to Lyn's, he wondered if he should bring an overnight bag to Hobson's.

* * *

Lewis rang the bell at Hobson's house just before eight, clutching a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. He was determined to get back into her good graces. Hobson opened the door and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him in a way that would give the neighbours something to talk about.

"I missed you, Laura," he whispered as their lips parted. He was glad that he had decided to bring an overnight bag after all.

They caught up over quiche and salad, but Lewis didn't mention to her how gutted he'd felt when he realized that she had moved out of his flat. He tried to suss out her motives for leaving, but he wasn't able to discreetly steer the conversation that way. All threads led back to Jack and his antics, loveable lad that he was.

He yearned to tell her that he wanted a more permanent relationship, but he was afraid that she'd decided she needed space. So Lewis allowed the conversation to meander where it would, and after they had finished the wine and cleared up dinner, he tried to entice her to come sit on the sofa.

"Or we could go upstairs," Hobson suggested. Lewis felt a twinge of excitement as it would be the first time they were intimate in her bedroom. Still, he hesitated.

"You don't want to digest a bit first? I don't usually... on a full stomach."

"Silly, man. I just want to show you something." Hobson led Lewis by the hand up the narrow stairs.

"So that's where our duvet cover went," Lewis remarked as they entered the bedroom. He looked relieved to see the bed with familiar linens. He started eagerly towards the inviting bed, but she stopped him.

"Not yet, Robbie. Come over here and have a look." She went to the closet and slid open the door.

"It's a half-empty closet." Lewis stated.

"Very good, Inspector." Hobson was hoping for a little more from Lewis. "Well, what do you think?" Hobson asked finally.

"Oh." It had dawned on Lewis. "I think it has serious potential."

"I think I've been a bit daft, Robbie. I was trying to keep things simple by staying around at your flat, but I've come to realize that this isn't a simple relationship. I'm getting to the point of my life where I'll soon be done with corpses. I want to enjoy our life together before I become one myself."

"I am not sure if that is morbid or romantic."

"It's both, Robbie. I am both. Do you love me despite it?"

"You know I do, Laura. Unconditionally."

"When the lease on your flat is up, would you consider moving in with me?"

"Are you sure, love?"

She nodded. "Unconditionally."

Lewis smiled his impossibly wide smile, "Yes, then, I think I would." Always wanting to be useful, he added, "But I would help you pay down the mortgage and fix things around the house."

"I'd love that." She said, unbuttoning his shirt. She pulled it off his sleeves and then hung it up in the closet.

Lewis wrapped his arms around her from behind as she was hanging the shirt. He began kissing her neck. Hobson felt herself melt into Lewis' embrace.

From there, they took their time shedding the rest of their clothes, crawling into bed. Gently moving together, they made love. As Lewis approached his release, he gripped the sheets on their bed and realized that he was home.

* * *

Some time later, Lewis had vacated his flat and handed in his keys to his despairing landlady. Lewis insisted on carrying Hobson over the threshold of their home that day to finalise the arrangement. Hobson expected to be scooped into his arms and cradled, but Lewis surprised her once again. He crouched down and put his shoulder into her abdomen, lifting her up and slinging her over his back like a sack of flour. "Watch your head, pet," he warned as they crossed the threshold.

Lewis had a firm grasp of Hobson's legs but her arms were free, so she proceeded to smack Lewis on his bum. "This is barbaric!" She cried indignantly.

He set her down on the sofa, excited to see that he hair was tussled and face flushed. He defended himself, "it's not barbaric, that's how they teach us to rescue people at the Police Academy!" He grinned proudly, and to Hobson he seemed years younger.

"I want you, Robbie." Hobson whispered, pulling him onto the sofa. She separated her legs to accommodate him.

"Now?"

"Now and forever," she answered.


	7. The Last Stop on the Pilgrimage

Part III, chapter 7- the last stop on the pilgrimage.

 _Part III takes place another three months after the start of Part II  
_

Lewis and Hobson slept in that Saturday morning as they had been out late the night before. Hobson's community orchestra group had given a concert. At Hobson's behest, Lewis invited his former boss Jean Innocent as a "date." (Hobson had originally suggested that the Chief Super and Mr. Innocent attend together, but Mr. Innocent was indisposed. _Again_ , Lewis remarked.) Lewis was never sure that he would enjoy an evening in Innocent's company, but on this occasion, he had to admit that they got on smashingly. _It must be growing soft in my retirement, but I've really missed her,_ Lewis thought. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. Innocent even bought Lewis and Hobson several rounds of drinks at the pub after the concert, ostensibly to celebrate Hobson's musical triumph, but it seemed that Innocent was all too happy to reminisce with Lewis as well. "If only Hathaway were here," was a refrain shared by the trio.

Lewis and Hobson slumbered soundly well into the morning until the trill of Hobson's mobile on the nightstand woke them.

"Hobson," the pathologist grumbled into her mobile, fully expecting a desk sergeant to ruin her day off.

"Laura?" The voice of an older woman came through the receiver. "It's Goldie Dalrymple."

"It's our next-door neighbour," Hobson whispered to Lewis.

"Yes, of course, forgive me, Mrs. Dalrymple."

"I don't mean to be indiscreet, but I was out for a morning constitutional and I noticed… well, it appears that someone is sleeping rough in your garden. I just wanted to check in with you…"

Hobson leapt out of bed and ran to the window. "Thank you, Mrs. Dalrymple." She abruptly hung up her mobile.

"Laura? What is it?" Lewis called after her.

Two minutes later, Lewis was half-dressed and investigating a tent that had popped up in their garden. Hobson had thrown on her robe and was following Lewis with a garden shovel slung over her shoulder- just in case he needed back up.

As Lewis came close to the tent, he recognized the stench emanating from the tent. "Put the shovel down, lass. I recognize that stench."

"You know the hobo camping in our garden?"

"It's James. I know how he smells after chasing suspects for days-on-end-all-consuming cases."

"Another wanderer returns," Hobson grinned. "I'll put the coffee on."

* * *

 _12 hours earlier_

James Hathaway felt the cool Oxford air engulf him as he stepped out of the train station to have a cigarette. It was late and he had sublet his flat so he considered his options. In his dishevelled state, he knew that he couldn't just drop in is father and sister. There were only two people who would take him in no matter the state he was in: Father Placid or Inspector Lewis.

 _Am I going to be a priest or a copper?_ He asked himself, though by this point the decision had already been made. So he placed his framed hiking backpack over his shoulders once more and continued his trek.

When he made it to Lewis' flat, he looked for the familiar "Lewis" next to the button for 2C, but he was surprised to see that instead the name "Brutus" was written in block letters.

"Et tu, Lewis?" He mumbled to himself. He knew at this point that a hotel would be his best bet, but he felt an insatiable curiosity overtake him. He had to know where Lewis had gone. He decided that he had come so far on foot and public transportation that this time he would call a cab. He gave the cabbie Hobson's address.

Hathaway was elated to see Lewis' car in the drive in front of her house. _Well, it looks like one of us made it to the last stop on the pilgrimage after all._ Whereas Hathaway himself didn't make it all the way to Santiago de Compostella, Robbie Lewis, it seemed, had overcome his foot fungus and made it to Laura Hobson's bedroom.

Hathaway knew that it was horribly late, but if there were two people who were accustomed to being woken up in the middle of the night by a colleague it was these two. He pulled out his mobile to find that what little charge it had from the airport was gone. He shoved it back in his pocket and rang the bell. There was still no answer after he tried again. So, Hathaway carefully lifted the latch on the gate and let himself into the garden. As quietly as he could, he pitched his tent in a patch of grass. He hung his soiled clothes to air out on Hobson's garden swing before settling in for the night.

Before he drifted off to sleep, Hathaway's mind conjured up the bittersweet memories that had brought him here. He'd been walking the camino de Santiago de Compostella as a faithful pilgrim. Some of his path had been a solitary time for reflection and prayer, but then there had been… _her_. He couldn't even bring himself to think _her_ name, he was so embarrassed. They met at a mission church in a village in Spain and continued their route together. They spent days talking and sharing everything- and Hathaway realized how much he wanted to share his life with someone. Certainly, undeniably, she had been flirting with him. But then came the dreadful moment where Hathaway had misread the cues and moved in, thinking he could kiss her.

"I thought you were going to be a priest!" she shrieked and rebuffed his advance. He apologized profusely and then scurried away in shame. All he could do was pray for forgiveness, and it didn't seem to be enough. It would never be enough.

 _James Hathaway, you are a dolt._ This became an unfortunate mantra.

Hathaway came to several conclusions as he continued the pilgrimage. He wanted to help people in the community, but he rejected the idea of being married to the church. He couldn't give up his quest for a flesh and blood partner of his own. It might be ethically dubious to date someone he met while being a detective, but it would be ethically impossible to date someone as a priest. Could he scrap both paths and become a professional musician? There were certainly fewer ethical dilemmas around dating there, mostly concerning free love and recreational drug use. He could handle that, but he honestly didn't think he could make a living.

 _James Hathaway, you are a dolt._

* * *

Before embarking on this adventure, Hathaway had promised his sister to check the poste restante in each town he came to. Nell was caring for their father who was showing early signs of dementia. She knew that Hathaway would not have reliable access to his mobile, so she would write to him if there was a change in their father's condition. There was never any mail for James Hathaway at the Lista de Correos, until one day. It wasn't a letter from Nell after all, but rather a shot in the dark from Jean Innocent, dated over a month ago. He would have to hurry if he was going to sit for his inspector's exam.


	8. The Fun Guy Among Us

Part III, chapter 8- The Fun Guy Among Us

Eventually, Hathaway awoke and emerged from his tent. Monty the curious cat was the first to approach him and sniff. The cat's presence confirmed what Hathaway suspected about Lewis' living arrangement. If the cat had moved in too, Lewis must have successfully convinced Hobson of unconditional love exists. Hathaway gazed up from Monty to the patio where Lewis and Hobson were enjoying coffee and the paper. The tableau was too perfect.

"Morning, James," Lewis said before going back to his paper, as if it were nothing to see a scruffy Hathaway sleeping in his garden. Hobson did not follow Lewis' lead, however.

"James, you're sunburnt!" Exclaimed Hobson. "I have some aloe for that."

James Hathaway was indeed sunburnt and had a scraggly beard. "Thanks," he said as Hobson handed him some coffee. "I'm glad to see your toe-nail fungus has cleared up," he added to Lewis.

"You need a shower, lad," Lewis riposted.

"Actually, I showered yesterday morning before my flight back from Spain. It's my clothes that haven't been properly washed in weeks."

"I think we can take care of that." Hobson said. "You smell slightly better than a corpse, though, if I do say so myself. We should get you fed first though, eh?" She was used to Hathaway's tall and thin frame, but today he looked emaciated. "What have you been eating?"

"There were a few stops at albergues and missions along the way, but it was mostly tuna pouches and ramen noodles. Whatever was light enough for me to carry."

"I'll start a fry-up," Hobson responded. Both Hathaway and Lewis perked up at that suggestion. Hobson opened the French doors to the kitchen, leaving the two men to talk.

"What are your plans, James?" Lewis asked.

"Avail myself of your kind offer to get cleaned up, then see about getting some of my belongs out of storage so that I have more than two pairs of clothes. After that, I'll look in on a mate I've played music with. He said I could stay with him until I get on my feet again." Hathaway looked at Lewis' eyes to see if he had been caught out in the lie. If Lewis had caught on, he didn't say. There was no bandmate of course; Hathaway would go back to his father and Nell until he had sorted himself out. Hathaway knew that there would be many judgmental comments from his father and Nell alike, and then he would leave them again. To Hathaway, it felt inevitable.

Lewis pursued a different track though. "No, I mean, your future. What have you decided?" Lewis prodded.

He wasn't about to tell them the whole story, but Hathaway let it be known that he would take his inspectors exam.

Robbie Lewis beamed from ear to ear. "Come in the house, James. I have to show you something."

Once inside, Lewis went to a drawer, pulled out a think manual, and plunked it down on the desk in front of James. "You're not going to believe this, but Jean Innocent gave me your study materials just in case you got in touch. The funny thing is, I only saw her last night."

"Innocent has a way of knowing, doesn't she?" Hathaway said.

Lewis started leafing through it himself, remembering how his own son sat at their kitchen table quizzing him all those years ago. "You know, if you want help revising, James… ah, ignore me. You don't need any help from the likes of me."

 _More than you'll ever know,_ Hathaway thought. _Show me the way, Robbie._

But he couldn't say that. "If I do make Inspector, well, it won't be the same without you, Robbie."

"Would that I could go back with you, James." Lewis was wistful because he knew there was no place for him in CID anymore. "I'll tell you a secret, though, whenever Laura has me foraging for mushrooms in the forest, I pretend that we're searching for clues around a dead body."

Hathaway laughed for the first time in a long time. "Foraging for mushrooms? Is that what you do in your spare time now? That must be why Laura thinks you're such a _fun guy_."

"Oy, you cheeky git," Lewis tried his best to sound annoyed, but he was just so relieved to have his protégé back along Oxford's thin blue line. And honestly, so was Hathaway.

* * *

Author note: I hope you enjoyed this little journey in the lives of Robbie, Laura, and James. Thanks to all those who read and reviewed including the guests whom I can't think personally. It means a lot to know that a story is worth sharing. Thanks also to Hobsonfan for reminding me of the song There was a Fungus Among Us, from which I derived the title of this chapter. Although, the titular Fun Guy this time is James, since Robbie has passed the torch.


End file.
